


Dorian's Realm

by Kalisca



Series: Cullrian Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Cullen is a mage, Cullrian Prompt Saturday, Dirty Talk, Dorian is the god of the dead, Eventual Smut, It makes sense in the AU I promise, Light Bondage, M/M, Mashup of mythologies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-04-25 18:37:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4971952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalisca/pseuds/Kalisca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Cullrian Prompt Saturday on Tumblr: “An AU where Dorian is the lord of the dead or underworld and Cullen happens to die :( and shows up at Dorian’s door step. Dorian feels no pity or emotion for anyone who shows up in his house, but that was soon about to change.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dorian's Realm

**Author's Note:**

> I’m a big mythology nerd and playing around with different ones to create this story was pure fun.

Dorian hadn’t always been the god of the dead. He aspired for brighter things, in his youth, and quite literally, as there was no sun shining in the Underworld. He was at first the god of witchcraft and wished to help mortals discover their magical abilities. At the time, only a few knew about the powers running through them and kept the information like a taboo secret, but Dorian’s mission was to take that secret and spread it around, for magic was not something anyone should be afraid to possess. Dorian loved it, and so should all mages.

Of course some gods were against it. Either they didn’t have magical abilities beyond their immortality, either they thought the mortals weren’t worth such powers.

It was of note that nobody but the immortals had any powers at first, but as the millennia rolled by, they began to breed with mortals, causing magic to appear on Thedas. Dorian gave in the curiosity as well, hiding his identity to sneak in taverns and brothels to know what the fuss was all about. Opium was a popular drug at the time, the mortals smoking it through pipes before orgies that would last all night long. Dorian participated in those, but never did he take a liking in anyone. He understood why the pleasures of the flesh could become overwhelming above anything else, but after having his share, he continued on more important matters.

A public figure appeared around that time, a woman named Andraste who was the Alamarri’s leader, a tribe in war with Tevinter. It was said she could see the future and was the messenger of the Maker, whereas the truth was that the “Maker”, the King of the gods, would sleep with any mortal he’d find attractive enough, willing to shapeshift if it meant a rump in the bushes.

Dorian found it sickening that his actual wife, and sister, tolerated it all and would instead punish those poor women. Andraste was punished like many others, burned at the stake, but because of her position, she was seen as a martyr and began to be worshipped as the Maker’s bride. The King found it hilarious; it was another thing he could brag about. Before she died, Dorian appeared to her, intrigued by her powers, and she indeed could predict the future. She told him she’d seen him during one of her catatonic episodes, told him things no one knew about Thedas’ future. She fascinated him. She told him something dark was awaiting him, that it’d take a long time before he could see the light again.

Once she was killed, he requested she was made immortal so she could become the prophet of the Gods. His request was accepted by their King, but Dorian suspected it might have to do with his attraction to her.

Time shifted and more magic appeared. Dorian would try to find the most talented and educate them so they could help others, but he witnessed many prodigies turn mad and cast a negative reputation around, spreading diseases and cursing those who would try to stop them. It was a mess Dorian knew he couldn’t avoid, mortals had been scared and wary of any new discovery since fire, he figured magic was quite a step for them. He would still teach the miracles magic could do out of thin air, how it could help infertile lands produce crops and heal otherwise fatal wounds.

It probably was around that time that his father learned what he was up to. He’d disapprove of the god who showed fire to the mortals, been the one responsible for his punishment and many tricks and wars among the gods, so it didn’t come as a surprise he’d disapprove of what Dorian was doing. He had other children beside him, and everyone knew he didn’t like him for the fact he didn’t take any shit from him. Halward wasn’t usually a sadist, but he could if needed, and especially to a son he didn’t like.

Many gods and goddesses would often leave their realm to walk on Thedas, knowing they could return whenever they wanted. The Chantry had just been created; inventing its calendar to measure time, and it was the Divine Age, in the midst of the Second Blight. Dorian was disguised as a middle-aged man, teaching the arts of necromancy to a group of young adults who would listen to him with wide eyes. He was living with them in their village with the excuse his whole family had been killed during a Darkspawn attack.

His father was waiting for him at his temporary house, along with some of his friends. He told him he wasn’t worth returning to the gods’ realm anymore, that he couldn’t kill him but instead would trap him down on Thedas so he would stop spreading knowledge only the gods should have, and he did. Dorian couldn’t defend himself against three persons who rendered him unconscious and locked him in a cage lost in a cave no one knew about. Runes prohibited him from leaving or using magic, the only thing he could do was scream for help. He screamed and cried and pleaded, but no one came.

Immortals didn’t need to feed their body to survive, but there was only so much they could endure before they became a shell of the splendor they used to be.

He was trapped in the dark for centuries, his eyes blind and his ears hearing nothing but the cave slowly giving in around his cage. It would someday be buried under rocks, truly impossible to find. He hoped he at least had made a difference for all those mages, that some would escape the hardship of the Circles and use their magic for the greater good. After a while, his mind wandered and he fell asleep in a deep slumber.

The King of the gods found him, helped by Andraste who had a prediction about his location. When they helped him out, they found out he couldn’t endure the light anymore. He wasn’t blind, but his eyes could now see better in the dark and the sun would hurt them. He was lucky he didn’t suffer any other physical damage other than that, but mentally, he wasn’t sure he could go around Thedas helping mages anymore when he felt broken, empty inside.

The King punished Halward, sending him into a pit where a snake would drip venom on his face each day, only to heal during the night. He offered Dorian a place as the Lord of the Underworld, a place devoid of sun but where he could rule as he suited. Souls from the dead needed a place to live their afterlife but were lost most of the time down there, and Dorian would help them so they could spend the rest of eternity comfortably.

The Underworld was a cold, humid place when he first stepped in there, and Dorian had enough of that, so he made adjustments. He compensated for the years spent in the dark. Burgundy, dark green and golden draperies were installed on the walls of his castle, torches were added to light every corner, soft and plush carpets covered the floors, and he decorated his private quarters as regally as he wanted. He brought in some black marble statues of the other gods to present them to the dead so they would know the truth about the immortals.

Ruling over the dead wasn’t that difficult most of the time, to be honest. There were the occasional discords, but he would quickly take care of them. He only needed to judge souls once they stepped in and send them to their deserved eternal resting residence. Humans, elves, qunari, dwarves and other species would live together for the most part on a few floors carved through rock designed for mortals, another floor would be used by the heroes of Thedas, half-gods included, and then there was a special place for evil souls that Dorian took pleasure in finding punishments for and leaving them in the dark. Each of them reminded him of his father, and their pleads fell in deaf ears. Many actually offered their body for a better place, which Dorian refused firmly. Sex hadn’t interested him for a long time now, he believed his heart had been replaced with a stone of his prison.

He would often receive news from the surface, corresponding with the other gods or visiting at night. Dorian would visit the heroes as well, have a chat with them to share information no one but him would know about, and it was up to the Lord to judge if it was worth sharing or keeping for himself. Most of the time he would keep silence on it, truth be told, because anyone knowing would’ve influenced the natural order.

They entered the ninth age, the Dragon Age. Blights always brought more work for him, and as the fifth one began, it was no different. He met multiple heroes on a short amount of time, beginning with Cailan Theirin, the King of Fereldan, whose death was his father-in-law’s fault, then Duncan the Warden-Commander stepped through the portal. He’d successfully established new wardens in Fereldan for them to save Thedas, earning himself his place in the Land of Heroes. Loghain Mac Tir was the one who left his son-in-law to die by abandoning the battlefield, but Dorian considered him a hero for his previous war victories, so he believed the two family members had a lot to talk about when they met again.

He met Surana, the elf mage who stopped the Blight by sacrificing her own life. She asked for him to leave a message for her lover, the present ruler of Fereldan, and he liked her enough that he accepted, in exchange of the Grey Warden’s secrets. The fact that they used Darkwspawn’s blood to access new powers proved that blood truly had miraculous effects when used properly and for the greater good. He knew blood magic had the reputation to be used only for bad purposes by that point in history, so he wrote a thesis about its beneficial uses, pretending to be a famous writer who had been dead for years to publish it, with the hope someone would take on it.

He also met a certain Anders, killed after he made a Chantry explode. He didn’t like the Chantry himself, Andraste didn’t either, and Anders had done this so people would realize how poorly most of the mages were now treated and for their situation to change, so Dorian bid him a good eternal life on the Heroes’ floor. The mortal had been possessed with a spirit, but the separation had already brought him a clearer mind, he admitted to Dorian during their meeting.

Another human came in after him, a certain Cullen Rutherford. The man had been a Templar most of his life, had witnessed horrors during his youth that had changed his opinion on the mages for the worse, yet he died protecting them from actual abominations and from his own superior in command (whom had been sent straight to the bad people’s floor, needless to say, with her soul still reeking of red lyrium). Dorian had to deal a few times with tortured souls, but that Cullen was proving to be rather difficult.

“I deserve punishment for what I did,” were his first words after he bowed to Dorian. They were in the judgment room, with the god seated on his throne made of polished ebony and ornamental stones that caught the light. The judged soul was a few steps down in front of him, wearing a soft black tunic with leather breeches, the dark fabric enhancing his paleness and blond curly hair. His frame was definitely masculine however, well-built with wide shoulders and muscular arms, his defined jawline stubbly.

“What have you done exactly, to think so low of yourself?” Dorian asked. He already knew, but he still wished to hear it from the attractive mortal’s mouth.

“I killed innocent people and let others do worse, blinded by hate for what a small group of mad mages had done to me long ago.” His stance was rigid, shoulders straight. He wasn’t looking in Dorian’s eyes, few ever did, but his gaze was locked on the bare shoulder his outfit allowed to see.

“Don’t you believe your death suffice to redeem yourself?” Dorian couldn’t help but be surprised by that mortal’s self-hate, and not many things surprised him anymore.

“It seems to have been a convenience instead, a way for me to stop almost a decade of bad decisions.”

“Your actions might not all be excused, but don’t lessen what you endured either, the accomplishments you made for yourself.”

“Anger and hate aren’t the answers to deal with a problem and never should be, but this is exactly what I did. I realized how wrong it was only while I was dying. “ Cullen’s voice was filled with pain and misery, yet Dorian sent him an appraising look. Not many had the wisdom and courage to admit the mistakes of their own actions.

“And so you believe you deserve an eternal punishment for those actions? What impossible task should I give you, then?” Dorian taunted him.

Cullen shrugged, but met his eyes for the first time, almost challenging him. He remained stubborn even through death, talking to a god. “Whatever you think is best, my Lord. Make me live again those weeks in the Circle, if you wish.”

He didn’t care for himself, but for some reason, Dorian did. There was something in Cullen that remembered him of himself, when he had just left that dark cave, misery tainting him and darkening his every thought.

“Did you know you have mage blood running through your veins? Not much, but enough that you could cast a few low-level spells if you practiced enough?”

The surprise was evident, then Cullen was chuckling.

“I just discovered that what I believed in for all my life was wrong and I’m having a chat with the god of the Underworld who is judging my soul, I don’t know what could surprise me at this point.”

“You forgot that this god is very good-looking and full of charms.”

“That too, but I’m sure you have plenty of fans already,” Cullen replied smoothly, a shift in his demeanor. If the man was attractive with a serious expression, that small crooked smile made Dorian raise from his seat and step down to his level.

“I only flirt back with those whom I deem worthy of me, and you, my dear…” He sent him a smoldering look. “I find very worthy.”

Cullen’s cheeks and neck turned red, but instead of stepping away, he openly admired his god-like features.

“I know what you will do, Cullen Stanton Rutherford,” Dorian said on a more serious tone. He knew how this mortal could serve him. He had served under the Knight-Commander for years and had a strategic mind, punctilious and fastidious on details Dorian rarely cared about.

“What will it be then, my Lord?”

Dorian smiled for the first time in over a millennium. “You shall become my right hand.”


	2. Death Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen becomes the God of the Dead's right hand and... a mage?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I promised a sequel on Tumblr, and after having no clue which direction to go, here it is. I think it turned out pretty well.

Dying didn’t feel particularly painful to Cullen. A life filled with battles and blue addiction made him used to the daily hurt, and being stabbed to death wasn’t nearly as painful as his body craving for lyrium during sleepless nights. He almost felt relieved instead, to meet such end for all his actions. Magic hadn’t killed him, it was the very Order he swore to serve for more than fifteen years. Lies, how many lies had spilled from his lips even as he allowed torture, rape and murder in the name of the Maker? How many of these acts had he himself committed? The blood was everywhere, it even invaded his dreams, and now it was spilling from his torn body. Perhaps he could ask for forgiveness to Andraste or to the Maker Himself, beg for the punishment he deserved.

Only the Maker wasn’t waiting for him as he stepped into the Afterlife. 

No one was waiting for him.

He woke up in silence, his body no longer hurting. This world was dark, despite the torches lighting the corridor he awoke in. He didn’t know how long he walked, time was frozen here, until he stepped into a well-lit room. Statues greeted him, and he took a moment to observe them. The persons immortalised in various situations were beautiful, ethereal. Signs designed each of them as god of fertility, goddess of justice, and so on.

“Come forward, Cullen Rutherford,” a voice ordered him further in the room. It was a man, a gorgeous one at that, seated on a black throne. He was wearing an outfit with too many buckles, his fingers heavy with rings.

“Are you the Maker?” He inquired as he stopped in front of the steps leading to the godly throne.

“I am Dorian, the Lord of the Underworld, and you are in my realm.”

He bowed to that Lord, not as intimidated as he thought he’d be. “I deserve punishment for what I did,” he announced without waiting, because he knew it was true. He was ready to take any punishment the God of the Dead judged fitting.

He was again surprised by the outcome.

“You want me to be your right hand?” He asked, dumbfounded.

“Indeed. The Underworld is a vast place, and there’s only so much one god can do to manage it. I’ve been looking for someone to help me for a while, and you seem suited for the task. You were the right hand of the Knight-Commander of the Templars in Kirkwall, were you not?”

“I was.” The Lord of the Underworld was offering him to become his assistant instead of suffering for eternity in the Abysses, and he dared to protest? “All right.”

“It’s settled then. I have a few other judgments to do, but one of my servants will show you to your room.”

As he was led out of the room, he very distinctively heard a woman scream in pain, one whose judgement didn’t go as well as his. His room was richly decorated, more so than everything he possessed previously. He was used to sending the little money he earned to his family, the Order giving him a shelter and the necessary already to live by.

After the servant went away, he took a moment to observe the paintings depicting multiple scenes he didn’t recognize, featuring those same gods and goddesses he knew little to nothing about. Despite being dead, he felt exhausted, and he crawled into that comfortable-looking bed to fall into a dreamless sleep.

At least the Maker truly existed, even if he was a womanizer, and Andraste was a prophet, but they weren’t married. Cullen met them once, Dorian greeting them with a warmth he rarely showed to other godly visitors except for Felix, the messenger of the gods. The latter would often visit and they would talk for long lengths of time in his private quarters. During those moments Cullen was free to do as he pleased, and he tried to refrain jealousy from taking over.

Those feelings were unjustified, however. Never did the duo give him the feeling that they were anything more than close friends. It only was the way they acted together, they’d known each other for a very long time and there was a chemistry between them that Cullen could only dream to possess with the Lord he was serving.

Dorian was always friendly with Cullen, even after he judged the darkest souls, with his continual flirtations and natural charms, but he kept a distance as well, one Cullen yearned to break. He seemed like he was waiting for Cullen to leave, or to act a certain way to hurt him, which was the opposite of the ex-Templar’s desire.

Something happened to the god to be this way, and he wondered if he’d ever discover the reason.

At least they were almost always together. He was to basically accompany him all the time and to take some work off his hands, to let him focus on the most important matters.

It was odd to meet acquaintances and friends he knew during his life, but after a while, he supposed they was no one left alive and they were all somewhere in the depths of the afterlife. The work itself, otherwise, was simple for the most part, but there was just so many dead who had particular requests on a daily basis, adjustments to make to their eternal resting place, and Dorian was busy most of the time judging newcomers, so it was up to Cullen to accommodate them. To be honest, he made a bit of a mess at first, not knowing he could ask the Lord’s servants for help, a group of low-level spirits that never left the Underworld. Luckily he was a quick learner, and he realized something was off with him after a while working for Dorian.

“I feel different,” he told Dorian after he assisted his judgments of the night. “I can do things, magic, that I never was able to in my life. I froze someone’s arm only with a thought.”

“Your mage blood is coming out now that you don’t have your Templar abilities to suppress them. I have to admit, I might have given you a little magical push as well…” Dorian wiggled his well-manicured fingers. They were heading for the Abyss, to take care of a dispute between two ill-mannered souls.

“What do you mean?”

“I wouldn’t make you my right hand and just let you be a dead normal human now, would I? You have blossoming magic at your will, and now I’ll help you get used to it.” And he did. At first, it was quite simple spells; wisps giving the faintest glow, butterflies as dark as the night the Underworld was continuously swimming in, levitating small objects. Then Dorian taught him how to manipulate the dead to force them to obey him, if needed. The mana was almost saturating the place, allowing him to cast spells almost infinitely without ever feeling drained, which was an useful but dangerous feat if not used the proper way. Cullen could do what he feared all his life, manipulating and creating things out of thin air, but his new abilities exhilarated him instead of scaring him.

“Are you hating yourself because of it?” Dorian inquired, noticing his expression as they were practicing.

“I don’t. Magic is just a part of what I am now. It doesn’t change who I am.”

“If only everyone could think like you,” the Lord stated pensively, and Cullen felt his neck warm up. It wasn’t even a compliment, why was he flustered… or was it?

“Mentalities change.”

“Perish the thought.” Dorian said with amusement and regarded him with a warm look, one he didn’t even use for Felix. Cullen’s blush deepened. They were in one of the gardens, odd flowers glowing in the darkness and smelling of nostalgic souvenirs. Cullen liked to come here to admire them when he had too many thoughts and wanted to ease his mind. It didn’t come as a surprise that it was one of Dorian’s favorite spots as well, with discarded books on the coffee table nearby a small fountain crafted in black marble.

“So I gather you’re accommodating well?” The god asked, extending an arm so an iridescent bird could perch itself on his slender fingers. So delicate and gentle in this instant, yet they’d brought harsh justice without tremors mere moments ago.

“Quite. My quarters are beautiful, the place has its charms, and the company-“ He stopped, biting his lip to prevent what he was about to say.

“What about the company?” Dorian insisted, pale eyes focused on him. He stroked the bird one last time and let him fly away.

“The company is worth everything.”

Dorian rose in a fluid movement, making Cullen almost fall into the fountain. He stepped forward to be in front of him, his smile brightening his eyes in a way that the sun never could.

“Cullen…” He pressed his palm against his cheek, the metal of his rings almost too hot to the touch except for his icy claw ring. The god was breathtaking from this close, smooth olive skin and oiled moustache enhancing a very attractive mouth. How Cullen had brought the attention of such beautiful creature on himself, he had no clue, but he wasn’t about to complain.

His lips were as soft as they looked, he idly thought as they met his. The kiss was nothing soft, Dorian taking and conquering him, owning him as he owned everything in the Underworld, and Cullen gave himself to the god without regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now the question remains, would you like a smut scene? I already have an idea, so tell me if you'd like that to happen as well.


	3. Rebirth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some kinks are featured in this last, smutty part: body worshiping, light bondage and dirty talk. I’m not sure about this one, so let me know what you thought of it, I’d really appreciate it.

“You were given a chance to spend peacefully your afterlife here, yet you preferred to spoil your opportunity.” Cullen’s face was stern, his tone commanding. He was in the house of one of the dead, a dwarf named Branka. It wasn’t even the first time he had to come in person to solve whatever problem she was involved in. He was here this time after he received a report concerning her and some other dwarf in a brawl and the man disappearing some time later without anyone knowing where he was. It didn’t take long for a servant to warn him about this, and even though he’d came as soon as he could to take care of this, he’d found the poor lad already in pieces, torn apart by some splitting torture tool she’d managed to build. The issue was to be investigated, to discover if she had any accomplices helping her.

“That bastard deserved it,” Branka laughed as some servants held her.

“I highly doubt he deserved to have his limbs stretched.” With a gesture, he reunited the body parts together and reanimated the corpse. The dwarf jumped on his feet and ran outside without a look behind.

“I’ll see you around,” Branka yelled after him with a snicker.

“No you won’t. You’re going to the Tartarus, where you belong. Perhaps you shall better enjoy what you had here once you’re there.” With a nod, she was dragged away. Cullen made the device disappear and cleaned the place so it could welcome someone else before striding outside, only to stop short. Dorian was leaning against the front wall of the house, a smirk on his full lips. He was a sight for sore eyes, all dressed in black leather and buckles, his hair styled to perfection.

“You sure know how to handle the naughty ones,” he commented, his arms folded. His grey eyes, surrounded by kohl, were slowly undressing him and made him feel self-conscious, desire evident in them.

“Did you wish to talk to me?” Cullen stepped up to him, staring for a moment at the bare shoulder and the peak of pectoral his outfit offered. Dorian of course noticed and widened his smirk to a grin.

“I did, but now I’m not so sure.”

“How come?” At first, Cullen had been hesitant to flirt with the god, but now he loved the thrill of it, the sexual tension it fed until it exploded. He brushed his fingers against his cheek, pleased when Dorian leaned into his palm, then turned his head to lick it with a heated look.

“Because I have this very appealing idea to fuck a certain commander until he’s begging me to come.”

“Oh,” was Cullen’s answer, and then they were kissing fervently, hands everywhereand not able to settle at one place. Cullen was pliant in Dorian’s arms, gasping and moaning as the god of the dead bruised his lips with the force of his kisses. Dorian pushed him against the wall of the house, reminding him that anyone could see them, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was his Lord grinding into him, the tight leather they were wearing making the whole operation a bit uncomfortable.

“Dorian,” he whined, wishing he could touch his smooth skin underneath. He settled to mess up his hair instead, running the pad of his fingers across his bristled short sides.

“Patience, my dear,” Dorian hushed in his ear before he lightly bit it. His hands were already underneath his tunic and were stroking his warm sides while he nibbled and licked his neck, where his heart was furiously thumping. Cullen was eager, trying to work open some of his buckles and groaning in frustration when they wouldn’t budge. He finally snapped his fingers and Dorian found himself half-dressed.

“Now who’s the naughty one?” Dorian tsked with malice. “Let’s go to my quarters.” By going, he meant teleporting. The blond man was pushed on the plushy, very large bed of the god, without a clue of where his own clothes were, not that it really mattered when you had a god looking down at you like that. Insatiable hunger reflected in his pale eyes as he removed his pants and boots, leaving him naked, and Cullen could only gulp in thrill and anticipation.

“You’re not allowed to move unless I tell you to,” Dorian warned him with the same tone Cullen used earlier with Branka. He lit up some more candles without even blinking, giving the whole room a more intimate atmosphere. He crawled over to him in the middle of the bed and nuzzled the space where his inner thigh. Cullen's half-hard cock stirred at the tease as he suppressed a whimper. Dorian kissed and licked his way up his body, tasting every inch of him but the only place he ached the most.

Once he’d teased his nipples to a lovely shade of red, Dorian captured his mouth in a searing kiss, tongue exploring his mouth in a way that made the once-mortal moan loudly. The feel of his muscled golden body against him was amazing, all that power contained in it, and yet the god of the death had chosen him as his lover. His long fingers raked through his blond curls, slightly tugging them, and Cullen followed the movement with a hiss.

“So obedient…” Dorian purred before biting his bottom lip. It shed a bit of blood, quickly licked away.  “You’re being so good, my love. Turn around now.” He lifted himself off Cullen to let him turn on his belly. Cullen hummed in appreciation at the sweet kisses spread between his shoulder blades. His arms and legs were stretched and tied to the bed’s posts with silk ropes, leaving him at the mercy of Dorian’s ministrations.

“Alright?” Dorian asked, his tongue following the length of his spine down to his ass.

“Alright,” Cullen grunted into the pillow. The bondage had been discussed a long time ago and used multiple times ever since they’d been together. He liked to give Dorian control and let him do as he pleased, knowing he’d enjoy it too and that Dorian would never seriously harm him.

Dorian smacked a plump cheek and watched the flesh wiggle back into place, a red imprint quickly forming, then did the same with the other one. He cast ice in his hands and placed them on the warming marks, making Cullen gasp and jerk into the mattress. He leaned down blow his icy breath, before spreading his cheeks and licking his puckered entrance with the flat of his tongue.

“Oh sweet gods.” Cullen quivered, tugging on his bindings. His cock was trapped underneath him, Dorian’s tongue stretching and working him open making it an absolute torture of sensations. He would alternate between small strokes and longer ones, then thrust in him before using his fingers as well. He was even occasionally sending small electricity sparkles, driving him blind with pleasure.

Hence his almost drowsy state when Dorian suddenly stopped and installed himself on his knees between his opened legs, chest against his back. He was well stretched and almost didn’t feel any pain when the god slid his slicked cock into him until his balls rested against him. Dorian pressed open-mouthed kisses along his shoulders and everywhere he could reach, his facial hair tickling him. Cullen turned his head as best he could and they exchanged a heated kiss, tongue meeting in an uncoordinated way.

[ ](http://i66.tinypic.com/wmfjmw.jpg%22)

When Dorian began to move, it was with deep, rigorous thrusts, the kind that he loved and made him see stars.  He wouldn’t last long, not with the foreplay and his cock ramming right against his sweet spot, but it was only the first round and his sexual drive was never truly satisfied when he was with Dorian.

“You feel so good around me.” Dorian growled. “You’re beautiful like this, stretched wide and taking my cock. My tongue in you always gets you going, doesn’t it? You love being tied and rimmed, and now you can’t do anything while I pound into you, again and again and again. ” Dorian snapped his hips faster, the dirty words sending him closer to the edge already. Cullen whined, ass grinding and meeting his thrusts in his restrained state.

“Come for me, love.” Cullen only needed to hear it to come hard, his ass spasming and clenching around Dorian.

He took a hold of his waist as he set a brutal pace, skin slapping against skin. Sweat was glistering on Cullen’s pale skin, gathering in the curve of his spine and his lower back, and along with his disarray curls and the sinuous muscles showing on his tied arms, he made a beautiful vision Dorian couldn’t take his eyes off as he reached his completion with a grunt, spilling inside him.

 His thighs were shaking from exertion as he got on his feet to untie Cullen. He took the time to massage and kiss the red marks on his wrists and ankles, with Cullen smiling lazily in his post-orgasmic state. He didn’t even move when Dorian came back with a wet cloth to clean them both, but he made room for him when he returned to the bed.

“So, you liked me handling that dwarf?” Cullen innocently asked once they were snuggled together. Dorian blinked down at him, then started laughing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [Tovaras](http://tovaras.tumblr.com/) for the fanart, check out the [Golden Lair](http://golden-lair.tumblr.com/post/135395213389/oh-this-is-so-nsfw-this-is-so-very-very-nsfw) for other artworks.

**Author's Note:**

> The second volume of the World of Thedas helped me with Andraste’s history. Honestly I don’t care for the Chantry, but I wanted to include Thedas’ history and mix it with my story’s for the heck of it. Andraste doesn’t seem that interesting, if I understood what I read, and she thought of herself as the messenger of the Maker because she had visions.
> 
> For anyone interested, the King of the gods is Zeus mixed with Odin, Halward is a meaner Loki and Dorian is a mix of so many gods of the dead, but his powers look a bit like Hecate’s who was the goddess of witchcraft among other things, and his story was inspired by Osiris’, as he was also betrayed by a member of his family before he became the god of the dead. The Underworld itself isn’t based on any mythologies really as most have a special place for heroes and another for bad people. 
> 
> Lastly, there are winks to multiple myths, congrats to you if you were able to find them.
> 
> My Tumblr: [Claim-your-pain](http://claim-your-pain.tumblr.com/)
> 
> The amazing fanart was made by [TovarasNightroad](http://tovarasnightroad.deviantart.com/art/Dorian-s-Realm-568248923) on DeviantArt, they also can be found in their [Golden Lair](http://golden-lair.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.


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